Born to Die
by dashboardconfessions
Summary: Cato and Clove are the last two in the arena. The rule has been revoked. Only one person can win. Who will it be?


**I'm sorry if you guys tried to read this earlier and this wasn't broken into paragraphs. I had absolutely no idea it posted like that. It was broken into paragraphs when I uploaded it. **

**But anyway, I hope you guys like this, now that you can actually read it. Please review. :) **

The arena was quiet. Far too quiet. Cato looked around him, saw only the slight movement of the trees as the wind blew by, the dead bodies of the District 12 tributes that he had just killed. They looked awful, and he didn't care. He wanted them dead. Because if they stayed alive, he and Clove couldn't.

Clove. He quickly glanced to his side and saw her lying on the ground, wincing as she touched her ankle and tried to move her arm. The final showdown was at the Cornucopia. He had taken on the Girl on Fire, she had taken on Lover Boy. Of course, there was no contest for Clove. She killed the boy instantly. He had no weapon, and his leg still wasn't completely healed from Cato's sword cut. The Girl on Fire wasn't too happy about seeing her "lover" go down, and she completely broke down, while trying to remain strong. Cato knew that she wanted to go home. He knew that she had a family to take care of. But so did he and Clove. And he had to get them out safely.

Katniss went for Clove first, shooting an arrow in her direction, but missing badly due to her lack of willpower to carry on. Cato thought that he might have seen her murmuring something about Prim, which he assumed was her sister, as she tackled Clove to the ground and started to hit her. Clove was much stronger than Katniss physically, but for some reason, she couldn't seem to fight the girl off. Cato could see that she must have twisted her ankle or something, because she was holding it at a strange angle and was not using her legs to kick the girl off.

He took that as his chance to strike. He stabbed the girl right in the back, and she fell over on the ground, with an anguished expression on her face. Cato watched as blood gushed onto the ground and the girl stared at him with pain-filled eyes. He couldn't feel sympathy for her. Not now. The most important thing was getting Clove home to safety. They had plans now. They were going to share a house in the Victors' Village. They were going to become mentors. They might even get married. It sounded pretty good to him. So he couldn't feel bad for killing District 12. Not just yet.

And then he heard the cannon boom, and everything fell silent. Which is where he was now, gazing at Clove in a questioning manner, wondering if she was okay. He set aside his sword and started toward her, but she managed to pull herself up and wobble just a little before he caught her elbow and held her up.

For a long moment, they gazed at each other, their expressions hard and cold. And then, suddenly, Clove leaped at him and wrapped her arms around him tightly. He was a little shocked, with Clove showing affection even when she knew the cameras were watching. She wasn't like that. But she seemed genuinely happy that they had won, and he was too. He had to fight back a smile that was forcing its way to the surface. That was not characteristic of him. But he did hold her close to him and place a kiss on her cheek, because they were alive, and that was all that mattered.

"The blue house," she whispered against his skin as he leaned down and she buried her face into his neck. "That's the one I want in the Victors' Village."

"Blue house it is," he said, holding her tighter, if it was possible. He knew they were both strong, but he never thought that they might be the ones that won the Games. Not with Katniss running wild with her bow. But they had made it. He couldn't process it.

And then he heard a crackle from above them, and he could just feel the hovercraft coming to get them. But that was not the case. It was a voice that he had heard far too many times in this arena and the years past, the voice that had crept up into his nightmares, the voice of Claudius Templesmith. That couldn't be a good sign.

"Attention, tributes," he said, his voice making it seem like the entire arena was vibrating. "There has been a revision in the previous rule that two tributes may go home. Only one tribute may win. Good luck, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

Cato should have known that as soon as the star-crossed lovers were eliminated, the rule would be revoked. The rule was made for them, and only them, not the District 2 tributes. They didn't care about District 2 this year. His hand tightened on his weapon as Clove pulled away and gazed at him with wide, fearful eyes. And then her eyes flitted to his sword, and she glared at him. He loosened his grip on the weapon. What was he thinking? Clove was not just any other tribute. She was special. He couldn't kill her. But he had to. Or she could kill him. They had discussed this on the train ride up here, but they had both decided to drop it until the time came when they had to decide who was going to die. When the rule was changed, they had been so happy, happier than they had ever been, and now that it had been revoked…well, what now? One of them had to kill the other.

"So…what do we do?" he asked, knowing that he sounded stupid. Big, tough Cato wasn't supposed to be asking his district partner questions. He was supposed to act on impulse, feed on murder, kill without a second thought. But he just couldn't now. This was Clove. He wouldn't dare hurt her. But what if he had to?

"Kill me," Clove said, shrugging nonchalantly. "It doesn't matter. But…" She leaned in close to him and pulled his head down so that he was looking directly into her eyes, and she kissed him hard on the mouth. "You'll have to catch me first."

Of course. Clove never went down without a fight. Even when they used to train together in District 2, she never gave up on him, even when she knew that she was going to lose a battle. She fought until the very end. He tried to manage a small smile, for her sake, to let her know that this was not how he wanted it to end, but this was the Hunger Games. He couldn't look weak. But Clove had a way of doing that to him. Still, it was all a big show, and he had to act his part. The monstrous, brutal killer from District 2. The one they thought would win from the beginning, no matter what the Girl on Fire made in training. The one they thought didn't have a heart, but truly he did. But only for her.

"Clove, don't run, your ankle's hurt," he said, trying to sound as caring as he possibly could without completely losing his edge.

"Then it should be easy for you, right?" she said, a wild look in her eyes. She was completely psychotic. He loved her. "Catch me, kill me, it's all over. You go back to District 2 and live in our house, and move on. Forget about me."

This is how she acted when she was trying to fight back emotion. He knew that. He knew everything about her. But what was the point? He had to kill her. This had to end. Games couldn't go on forever. There always had to be a winner. "Fine," he finally settled on saying. "Go. I'll give you a head start. Let's give them a good show."

She raised an eyebrow and smirked. "I like the way you think."

And within seconds, she was gone, running much faster than anyone who had hurt their ankle should have been able to run.

He chased her for days. Or, what felt like days. It couldn't have been days, because the Gamemakers would have gotten bored by then. Every time that he thought he might be close to her, he would slow down and let her get ahead again, because really, he was too afraid of what might happen if he found her again. He wanted to delay this as much as possible. The thought scared him, being covered in her blood, having to face day after day of misery back home, knowing that he killed the only person that he truly loved. He couldn't do it. She would have to kill him. And to put her through the same pain? This was a lose-lose situation. That's what the Capitol did. Even if you did win the Games, you still lost more than you gained.

When he stopped in a clearing to rest, a knife whistled past his ear and stuck in a tree right behind him. His head shot up, scanning the area carefully for the small brunette that he hadn't seen in such a long time. There was a noise from behind the bushes, and she emerged, looking more exhausted than he felt. So this was it. The Capitol was about to get what they wanted.

"Your aim is getting worse, Clove," he said jokingly, because he knew that it would annoy her, and he loved annoying her.

She rolled her eyes. Score one for him. "If I meant to hit you, I would have hit you. I was just getting your attention. I'm done running. There's no point in it. So just kill me now."

This is what it came down to. He watched as she dropped her knives to the ground in a sort of surrender. She had scratches and scars all over her body, blood on her arms and face, bags under her eyes, dirt caked onto her clothes. The Games were not a good thing, despite what they were taught in District 2. They turned you into more of a monster than you already are. Cato didn't want to be a monster anymore. Not if it meant that he had to kill someone he loved.

"Just try to make it as quick and painless as possible," she said softly, not meeting his eyes.

Still, he stood there, staring at her, not moving at all. Quick and painless? He could always snap her neck, just like he did the District 3 boy. The District 3 boy…he didn't deserve that death. No one deserved their death. He was starting to feel worse and worse by the second. He couldn't go on with all these awful memories. He couldn't go on knowing that he was the reason that Clove was not alive. What was the point of living, if she wasn't going home with him?

"Stop it," he heard her say firmly, and she didn't know what she was talking about until he realized that he was shaking, and tears were starting to fill his eyes. He blinked them back before anyone thought that he might be losing his edge. But he knew they had already seen it. He was a weak, defenseless child now. Not the monster that the Capitol was looking for.

"You're crying too," he whispered, reaching out to her and wiping the tears away as they rolled down her dirty cheeks. He had never seen her cry before. Not even when they were younger and she got hurt in fights. Not even when her dad hit her that one time. Not even when one of their friends died in the Games two years back. But now, she looked so tiny and fragile, and he was honestly scared.

"Just do it," she said, glancing toward his sword. "The Games have to end, Cato. And they won't win unless one of us is dead. You're better suited for a victor than I'll ever be."

He wasn't sure what was going through his mind now. Sure, he wanted to get out alive, but not without Clove. Yes, he had dreamed of being a victor for his entire life, but that dream didn't look so bright and wonderful without Clove being there too. So he had already made a decision. Clove was going to win. She had to. He would sacrifice the world for her, and if that's what he had to do to protect her, then so he would. Quick and painless death…quick and painless death…

Nightlock. He had seen it done before in the Games. Most people were just stupid and didn't know they were eating poisonous berries, but he was not stupid. He knew what would happen to him if he ate them. It would be quick and painless, maybe. He wasn't sure. But it would surely be better than any other way, right? He scanned the clearing until his eyes landed on the purple berries still on the bushes. With one glance at Clove, he picked some of them and held them in his hand, studying them, hoping that this was the right choice.

No, it was.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice full of confusion and fear. "Those are poisonous, Cato."

He nodded. "I know. You're going to win."

Clove looked terribly confused for a second, but then a look of realization crossed her face, and she lunged at him, trying to snatch the berries away. "No, I don't want to win!" she exclaimed. "You're supposed to win, Cato! You're the favorite!"

He closed his hand and pushed her away. There was no fight. Clove was strong, but not nearly as strong as he was. She hit him multiple times, yelling swear words and calling him names that he had heard her call him so many times in his life that it just didn't matter anymore. She picked up one of her knives, tried to throw it at him, but he dodged it. He knew all of her battle tactics. There was no winning against him. He could easily win these Games. But no, that's not what he wanted anymore. Without a second thought, he threw the berries into his mouth and swallowed.

Clove stopped fighting. It had always been said that as soon as the berries had been consumed, the consumer was dead. Cato wished that that was how it was. He could literally feel his whole body shutting down. It was almost over. Clove was going to go home, live in their house, start a new life, forget about him.

"Cato! I hate you! Why are you doing this to me?" he heard her yelling faintly, her voice choked with tears. "You're supposed to win!"

He collapsed to the ground, the whole world swirling around him. It was almost over. He looked over at Clove, towering above him for once and still screaming hateful words at him. That was fine. He knew how she truly felt. He didn't need to hear how much she loved him before he died. Because he knew. And he knew how much he cared about her. And this was why he was doing this. It was always for her.

"You're so stupid, Cato," she said, falling down beside him and taking his hand. Tears streamed down her face, falling onto his bare arm, and she tried to wipe them away. What was the point? They were both just as weak as the other tributes. They were no different. They were just kids. Kids in love. And sometimes, love made you do stupid things. Maybe he was stupid.

"I-" he started to say, but he wasn't sure what he was trying to say. He knew how he felt. He knew how she felt. But they had never spoken about it to each other. It was just an assumption. "Clove…"

He didn't need to say it. She leaned down and kissed him, more passionately than she had ever kissed him before. Her face was wet with sweat and tears, her hands gentle as they traced his shoulders and touched his hair. He could feel her heartbeat, speeding up as she pressed up against him and held him tightly. Her breath came in fast, shallow gasps. He was glad that this was the last thing that he would ever experience.

The cannon boomed.

Now Clove was all alone in the arena. The only sound was her breath, as she struggled to control herself and calm herself down. She was no victor. Especially if Cato was not there. She heard a crackle, and then Claudius Templesmith's voice filled the empty air, announcing that she was the victor of the 74th Annual Hunger Games. She cursed under her breath. This was supposed to be a proud moment, but she just felt hollow and lonely. She looked up at the sky, expecting to see the hovercraft coming to take her away from all this, but she saw nothing. Perhaps they were running a little behind. Perhaps they were just delaying her rescue just a little while longer, just for the show. Because everyone loved seeing a victor break down into tears.

She couldn't be victor. It wasn't possible. Not without Cato right by her side. Another glance up at the sky, then back at Cato, and she knew that she had to do it. She couldn't live anymore. It would be painful, more painful than any death she could ever imagine. She had just enough time. She could do it. It would be a huge risk, since it had never happened before in the arena, that she knew of. This could cause problems in the Capitol and in the districts. But that was their problem, not hers.

Love made you do stupid things sometimes. She reached for her knife, held it firmly in front of her, sucked in a deep breath, and tried to muster up enough courage. She could practically hear the Gamemakers screaming, worrying themselves to death that she might do it, commanding the hovercraft to go faster, to gather up their victor and bring her home. Who cares? She would probably end up doing as soon as she got home, anyway. Better off to do it here, when the only thing that was on her mind was Cato.

The hovercraft was above her now. The mockingjays had stopped singing, the only sound was the humming of the hovercraft. It was now or never. She bit her lip and plunged the knife into her chest, letting out a shriek of pain as blood gushed down her body and onto the ground. The Capitol could retrieve her if they wanted to, but there was no reason to. They couldn't save her. She was as good as dead now.

The Hunger Games was wrong. The Capitol was wrong. District 2 was wrong. She knew that now that she was so close to death. She just hoped that this might help them realize their wrongs. She could hear someone yelling up above her, something about the fact that there might be a chance she could live. She wanted to laugh. There was no chance now. They were holding on to a hope that shouldn't exist.

She clutched her chest and pulled her hand away to see that it was completely covered in blood, and still, it continued to pour out of her. She crawled over to Cato's body, slowly, carefully, and fell down beside him. He had sacrificed himself for her. It was so stupid. But she had killed herself so that she could be with him. Maybe that was stupid too.

The cannon sounded. Televisions were turning off all over the nation, the president and the Gamemakers alike were cursing at this final image for the country to dwell on.

For the first time ever, there were no victors.


End file.
